


In Which John Laurens Deserves Better

by Kandakicksass



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alex is a sloppy drunk, Established (secret) relationship, Laurens POV, M/M, Thomas thinks Alex is cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-08 02:00:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10375353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kandakicksass/pseuds/Kandakicksass
Summary: John is the long-suffering best friend of one very drunk Alexander Hamilton, who has just spied his arch rival across the room and promptly gone over to tell him how awful he is (and wind up on his lap).John deserves better.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rainbowsandgucci](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowsandgucci/gifts).



> Look, I just wanted a fic where Alex holds onto "hating" Jefferson as an excuse to interact with him in public even though they're definitely boning (and sort of in love, shhh).

Alexander was a fucking mess.

Not that Alex wasn’t usually a mess; he definitely was, and it got worse when he drank. John had lost track of how many drinks he’d actually had, but his Hamilton-gauge told him that Alex was still somewhere between sloppy-drunk and fucked-up. He’d be fine for another ten minutes, and then John would cut him off. So long as they made it out of the bar without any major incidences, it would be fine.

Which, naturally, meant that Alex had to catch sight of the worst possible someone at the worst possible time.

“Jefferson,” he huffed. There was a weird glint in his eye that John didn’t like. “I hate him.”

John could have cried. What had he done in his last life to make him Alex’s babysitter in this one? “We know, Alex. Ignore him; he’s hanging out with Madison and his gross republican friends.”

“You know how he yelled at me at the office today? For no reason, even,” Alex whined, still glaring at where Jefferson’s unmistakable curly mess of hair was sat, facing away from them. “Fuck him and his stupid ideas. He’s not the treasury secretary. What does he know about my job?”

“Nothing,” John sighed morosely. “He doesn’t know anything about your job, Alex.”

“That’s right. He fucking sucks.”

Alex slumped over on the table, his head on his arms, but he was still watching Jefferson out of the corner of his eye. John wasn’t getting paid for this, but he should have been. “I’m cutting you off, my man,” John said. So he was eight minutes ahead of schedule; he’d prefer to call himself efficient rather than unable to deal with Alexander’s bullshit. When Alex pouted up at him, he softened. “I’m gonna grab you a glass of water, yeah? You’re getting sloppy.” He snickered at Alex’s wrinkled nose, and patted him on the arm before slipping away to the bar.

Hercules saw him coming and snickered himself at the look on John’s face.

He swore he’d only stopped to chat for a _second_ – but that didn’t make things any better when he glanced over at their table and Alex was gone. He resisted the urge to facepalm. Hercules saw where he was looking and cracked up, earning himself a dirty look.

“Better you than me, man,” Hercules laughed. “I’m so glad I’m working tonight; Hamilton duty is the worst.”

“I love him,” John said, almost pleadingly. “I swear to god I do, so why is he doing this to me?”

He skulked off toward Jefferson’s table, because where _else_ would Alex have gone?

Alex was already the center of attention – Jefferson was watching him with a smirk, and even Madison was grinning a little at Alex’s rambling.

“You’re such a _dick_ ,” Alex was saying plaintively. “And you… you said shit earlier and you’re _wrong_. About everything. Did you know you’re wrong about everything?”

Jefferson, still smirking and sprawled in his chair like a king, just bit back a laugh. “You tell me frequently. What did I say that was so wrong today?”

John winced when Alex visibly stuttered. “I – _everything_. Everything you say is always wrong.” Jefferson openly laughed, and Alex bristled. “I hate you! You suck so much, you fuckstick. Fuck. _Fuck_ , you’re awful.”

Jefferson laughed again but when Alex’s jaw clenched he managed to push it down again and pushed his chair back from the table. “Alright, Alexander. Why don’t you take a seat, get comfortable? It’ll be easier to yell at me if you can focus on your arguments instead of staying upright, yeah?”

Alex glared suspiciously at him. John was suspicious himself, especially considering that Jefferson’s twinkling eyes met his for barely a second when he walked up behind Alex before he focused on Alexander again.

“There aren’t any seats,” Alex snapped, sounding almost lucid. _Almost_.

“Sit in my lap.”

There was silence all around, except for Madison’s snickering.

“That’s gay,” Alex said, whining, a little confused and starting to get drunk-weepy. God, it was time for John to get him home – except that before he could reach out and get Alex’s attention, Jefferson just rolled his eyes.

“You’re bi, Hamilton. We both know you don’t give a shit if something’s gay. Sit down.”

Alex made an unhappy noise. “Yeah. That’s true. Okay.” Alex’s sleeve slipped out of his reach as he slipped forward, perching himself on Jefferson’s knees.

John was about to die right there, he was sure. Then, surprising him past the point of no return, Jefferson just rolled his eyes again and slipped an arm around Alex’s waist, pulling him properly onto his lap and against his chest, his other arm resting easily over Alex’s own lap. His left hand started rubbing soothing circles into Alex’s hip.

“You’re really dumb,” Alex huffed, resting his head on Jefferson’s shoulder. “You said so much… _stupid stuff_.”

“Yeah, tell me more.” He let Alex bury his nose into Jefferson’s neck, mouth moving lazily against his skin as he grumbled about how much Jefferson sucked.

John – being the only sensible person around, he was sure – grabbed a chair from another table and placed it pointedly at the head of the table. Jefferson just gave him a smug smile, but it slipped into something more genuine when John lifted the cup of water with a nod of the head toward Alex.

“Thanks,” Jefferson muttered, not loud enough to distract Alex from his own grumbling, and took the glass. Most of the table looked confused (in Burr’s case, scandalized), but no one was beating John in genuine shock when Jefferson gently nudged Alex to sit up just long enough to drink some of the water. He lifted the cup to Alex’s mouth, and when Alex drank what he was offered, his eyes were locked on Jefferson’s.

Was that what being gobsmacked felt like?

John sat there, making small talk with Madison (as amicably as possible, considering that they agreed on approximately zero points politically and never spend time together) and absently wondering why the hell he was getting sexual tension vibes from his _drunkdrunkdrunk_ best friend and that best friend’s self-proclaimed arch-enemy.

Alex didn’t have any problems settling back against Jefferson’s chest, finally giving up on his ranting and just nodding off in Jefferson’s arms. It’d be a sweet sight if it weren’t so perplexing. Eventually, however, after a good half hour of what had to be Jefferson’s legs going numb, the man himself sighed.

“Alright guys, I’m out,” he announced. “I’ll take this dumbass with me – he’ll sleep it off at my place.”

John finally managed to properly protest. “I don’t think he’d want to go home with _you_ man – he’d probably wake up in three hours half-sober and try to kill you in your sleep.” In response to his totally valid statement, however, Jefferson just laughed.

“He’s managed to refrain before,” he snorted. “And he’s still got clothes at my place, so he can even wear his own shorts home tomorrow.” When John’s mouth dropped open, Jefferson just smirked.

“ _Still_?” John squeaked, but Jefferson ignored him, too busy slipping an arm under Alex’s knees so he could heave him up into his arms. Alex looked _small_ like that, no matter how often he protested that he wasn’t that much shorter than Jefferson. John hated that they kind of looked good together, mostly because _he_ still _had clothes at Jefferson’s place_?

“I don’t know why you’re so surprised, man,” Madison said after Jefferson strode off, Alex secured in his arms. His head was lolled onto Jefferson’s shoulder still. For the split second that Jefferson turned to face them so he could open the push-bar door with his back, John could see an unexpectedly soft, fond smile on his face. “They’ve been trying to be sneaky about it but this has been going on for _months_. It doesn’t even surprise me that Thomas doesn’t even care about keeping it hush anymore.”

John buried his face in his hands, and let Madison clap him comfortingly on the shoulder.

 

 


End file.
